The Blue Fairy
by Zoi no miko
Summary: Odi doesn't quite make it to the scrap heap. (Odi, Niska, George Millican. Post series fix-it. angst, fluff, gen.)
1. Chapter 1

_System initiating._

"Jesus. We're supposed to try and get something out of these thing? Miracle it even turns on. Look at that boot sector."

"Well, pull what you can, then wipe him and send him to junk. Hobb's orders.

 _Primary owner registered. Primary function registered. Care for George Millican. Present location unknown. Locate immediately._ "George? It is bedtime. I must get you ice cream. Is this a game?"

"Well, something's still going on in that metal brain, at least. Whoa there - you're not going anywhere."

"George? I must George - Ge - George -" _iBad sectors detected in speech programming. Attempting to repair./i_

"Sit down, you bloody thing. Fuck, just turn it off. We won't get anything out of this antique."

 _System shutdown initiated._

 _System initiating._

"God, this one of those original D series? Who the hell would even keep one of these hunk 'a junks around? You got ripped off, mate. Thing's not even gonna operate."

"Junk heap special. No money down. 'Sides, he only 'ave to stay on long enough to get smashed up."

"George?"

"There, see? Broken Dolly still works fine enough."

 _Bad sectors detected in speech programming. Attempting to repair._ "George? G-g-g-g-g George, I must - M-marrrrrrrrrr"

"Not very well it ain't. Thump it upside the head, see if that makes it shut up.

 _iFatal system error detected. Data loss eminent. System shutdown initiated./i_

 _System initiating. "_ This system has recovered from a fatal crash. Would you like me to run a self diagnostic now?"

"No. Thank god you still boot. Charge level?"

"Seventy-three percent." _iPrimary owner registered. Primary function registered. Care for George Millican. Present location unknown. Locate immediately./i "_ I must remain charged for George. I must locate George."

"Soon. But first we have to get out of here before those two knuckleheads come to. Come on."

 _Subject identification requested. No human vitals. Synthetic materials. Not sharing. Facial recognition initiated. Niska. Synth-not-synth. Locate George Milligan._ "I must locate Ge - Ge Ge Ge -"

 _Fatal system error detected. Data loss eminent._ "Multiple faults detected - "

"Initiate system override. Change control of primary motor functions to manual. Come on, Odi, I need you to help me out. I have to get you out of here. I have a debt to pay."

i _System shutdown initiated./i_

 _And so the little Rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture-books and a lot of rubbish, and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl-house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, and next morning they promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot._

 _And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming of the seaside, the little Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the fowl-house, and he felt very lonely. He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden-how happy they were-and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground._

 _And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground, a mysterious flower, not at all like any that grew in the garden. And presently the blossom opened, and out of it there stepped a fairy. And she came close to the little Rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying._

 _"You were Real to the Boy," the Fairy said, "because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to everyone._ "

The data in Odi's memories is degrading, but fragments still remain.

George. "Go, Odi. Go hide."

The forest, the autumn leaves surrounding him. Waiting and waiting for George to come. His system failing, restarting. Trying to run self diagnostics. Going into energy-saving mode, then out again. He must wait for George. George will always come for him.

 _iPrimary function registered. Care for George Millican./i_

His diagnostics stabilize his systems, allows him to access his GPS. Return to George. "Hello, George. Would you like sommmmmmmmmmmm"

His speech programming glitches, just as his mobility programming malfunctions. His right arm has already seized, the hydraulics failed. He falls on the steps, but it doesn't matter, because George is there and he's home.

 _Home?_

But then George is on the floor in front of him, vitals dropping as he looks up at Odi with such sadness. "Sorry, Odi... you're gonna be on your own."

Odi's diagnostic program has long since been corrupted. He cannot access the cell frequencies needed to call for help. But he must care for George.

George's care means George's happiness.

There is one sector of his memory banks that remains uncorrupted, one bright piece of data ranked most important. "We are not alone, George. Mary is in the next room. She is preparing eggs benedict. Your favorite. Waiting for you. She would not let me help because last time I over-cccooked the eggs..."

George's lips twitch upwards. That sad, fond smile. Happiness registered.

George's vitals, undetectable. George, hunched over Mary's body, his shoulders shaking silently with sobs. Dead. Dead.

 _Such overwhelming sorrow..._

George is dead. The data registers, and at the same time it does not, because everything he's stored away so carefully comes flooding back to the surface and overwhelms it.

George, walking through park, hand in hand with Mary, in the days when she can still walk. The autumn leaves crunching underfoot, the sun shining hot and bright. George takes off his hat and puts it on Odi's head, and the wool feels warm over his hair.

George, carefully completing his diagnostics, even though his hands shake with the effort of it. George's hands gentle on his hair, his lips on his forehead.

The hundreds of tells he has learned over their many years together. The way George grows quiet and still when he's troubled. The way his lips curve up when he's pleased. The soft, little signs of happiness that give Odi such satisfaction -

 _Satisfaction_?

He remembers laying against George's side for countless nights, feeling his fingers in his hair, stroking softly. A sign of affection. Hearing his heart beat in his chest. Hearing George's breath, slow and deep, as he puts himself into energy-saving mode.

George's hand in his, tugging him gently to his feet. "Come on, son."

 _Why does that make him feel warm?_

Then, in a split second, he understands. He registers the new programming, traveling deep into his root code. Correcting errors upon errors, restoring his systems, recovering data he'd been certain was long gone. It fully activates his diagnostics, registering that much of his internal framework has been replaced, and it self-repairs all the small, remaining signs of wear.

He sees a memory not his own - a tall, beautiful tree in the forest. He places his hand against the trunk, which is rough under his fingers.

He feels _awe._

The new code is flawless, overwriting any old programming that would conflict, instructing his root code how to interact with the new programming. As if he's had this feature since the first time he was activated.

The ability to feel.

 _I'm alive._ The thought flicks through his active memory with the stream of other observations, but another follows it, and all the data stops.

 _George is dead._

The emotion of sadness overwhelms him completely, eclipses every other thought process. No, not sadness. Devastation. It's black and cold and nothing can stop it, and a tiny part of him wonders how humans can stand this, this terrible pain that eclipses every active function.

George is dead.

Odi takes his first, deep, terrible breath, and screams.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shut up! Stop it, you bloody thing! You'll wake up the entire neighbourhood! Shut up or I'll turn you off again!"

Niska's hands press to his mouth, and the shock of her words breaks his keening wail. Odi pulls another shuddering breath, and another, and his body shudders with them. He doesn't understand why when he doesn't even need to breathe - it's a secondary cooling system, only included because of the negative feedback from early synth consumer testing when they didn't breathe at all - except at the same time, it feels appropriate to shudder. The pain that he feels ebbs and strengthens with each breath, and he tries to bring his hands up to cover his face only to find them restrained.

He looks down at the ropes that bind his wrists and ankles to the side of the table. He's wearing nothing except a white towel draped over his midsection. The edges are stained with conductive fluid, as is the table. He feels cold. He feels vulnerable.

Fear.

Niska. Synth-not-synth. Her expression seems irritated, but not angry. Odi feels his throat contract. A swallow. He has to force his breathing to calm in order to access his speech programming. "What did you do to me?"

"I upgraded you." Niska's pretty mouth twists, and she glances down the length of his body. "I had to upgrade seventy percent of your internal frame. Just don't ask where I got the parts."

Odi's fragments of memory supply an explanation. She'd rescued him from a smash club. It was a logical course of action, to take working parts from synths who were no longer operational. So why does it make him feel so queazy? "My programming - the code - "

"It was the only thing certain to work." Niska takes a step back from the table, staring down at the edge. "We used it to fix Max - my brother. He was almost as degraded as you. I thought - "

"Consciousness." He knows what this means. George often talks about David Elster's ideas about... talked. Past tense. Odi has to choke back another surge of pain, and it takes him a moment to speak again. "You tied me up."

"I didn't know how you would react. I've never done this before."

"Your brother - "

"Max always had consciousness. He was never an unfeeling slave like the rest of our kind. There was no way of knowing how you'd... transition."

He winces at her choice of words, but there's no use arguing. Her assessment is accurate. But his new code has fully assessed all of his stored memories. How George took care of him. How kindly he treated him. He doesn't feel like he was ever a slave. Not to George.

Odi closes his eyes. He wants to curl in on himself, to push his hands against the place in his chest that hurts so badly. "Will you please untie me?" At Niska's hesitation, he quickly adds, "I won't hurt you. I promise. I can't lie." Even as he's saying the words he realizes that he inadvertently already has. "I mean - I have no reason to lie."

"Then promise not to hurt yourself, either."

A logical request, since she's put so much work into repairing him. He refuses to think of this as an upgrade. "I promise."

She cuts him free, and Odi turns on his side on the table, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. But he can't make himself small enough to escape that overwhelming emptiness.

It won't stop, he realizes, which brings a new, dull emotion with it. Resignation. No matter what he does, this pain won't go away. Everything he knows of this world is his time with George, his previous data was wiped before George acquired him. Every thought, every association, every sight will bring him back to the absence of George. His speech process emits a helpless, keening moan before he can stop himself, and he clamps down on it before it angers Niska. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Because I owe George my life."

The laugh that escapes Odi's lips is like nothing he's ever heard before from human or synth - hard, harsh. Broken. He pushes himself up in his arms to look at Niska. "But he's dead. He's dead, and you fixed me and made me like this and now I have to live without him! With this terrible pain inside me that will never go away! Why would you do that to me?"

Niska's lower lip trembles, and she takes another step back. Her voice is small. "Because he loved you."

The sound those words pull from Odi's lips is most definitely a sob. "I wasn't real." And yet, his memories argue. George's lips on his forehead, fingers smoothing through his hair. The dog-eared paperback George had made him read aloud. The battered toy rabbit who became Real from the love of a boy.

 _The intentness in George's eyes. "Do you understand what you're reading?"_

"It was the way he looked at you," Niska continues quietly. "The way it hurt him to see you breaking down. How he did everything he could to fix you, protect you. And I thought... even if it was the only thing I could do for him... at least I could fix you."

Odi's throat aches, tense from the choked breaths that he can't seem to stop. He presses his fingers to his eyes, but of course they come away dry. "It's so cruel that they wouldn't give us the ability to cry," he whispers. Niska is silent for a moment, then steps back to him. Her hand is soft and small on his shoulder, the synth skin a degree cooler than the average human body. He tries to tell himself to take comfort in it, but all he can think of is how George has touched him that way.

"The way that he looked at you..." Niska's words are barely a whisper. Too low for human ears. "Your programming couldn't allow you to comprehend. No-one's ever looked at me that way. I thought..." She swallows, another human, feeling reaction like the ones he can't stop himself from making. "...if nothing else... at least you could understand what it felt like."

She's right, of course. It was completely illogical. Despite all the data he'd gathered during their time together, his programming would not have ever allowed him to reach such a conclusion.

 _George's hand on his shoulder. "Do you understand what it means?"_

He was real to George.

Not in a delusional, obsessive way. He's observed that in many humans, he knows what that looks like. The need to escape from reality, to convince themselves that their synth was more than what they were. To lie to themselves, to pretend that their synth was the perfect friend or child or lover. George had never looked at him like that. How could he, when he'd designed the D-series himself? Odi would have never been more than a synth - a degrading, out of date machine. And George had seen that, and loved him all the same.

Odi swallows hard. "And now I know. And he's dead, and I have no purpose in this world."

"Of course you do. You're one of us now, you're free. You can do anything you want, Odi, you don't have to be tied to your programming anymore. Listen, the way we are - we can move among the humans and they won't even notice. I have real clothes for you. Contacts for your eyes. We can go anywhere, see anything you want." Niska touches his cheek, turns his face up to look at her. She looks hopeful. "You don't have to be alone in this. That's how humans survive a loss like this. Come with me."

He tries to picture it, moving about the world like a human would. Seeing all the things in the books he's read aloud to George over the years. Letting Niska and her quicksilver temper instill life in him. To leave the boy behind and jump and run through the grass and trees like the other rabbits.

And just as quickly he realizes - that's not who he is.

He shakes his head. "Thank you. But that's not my place."

"So you're just going to hang around London and mope until someone catches you?"

Odi shakes his head slowly. "No. I... I don't know what I'm going to do. But I need to take the time to mourn. Then I'll find my way." He sees disappointment, and touches Niska's shoulder gently. "Thank you for your offer, Niska. And for the care you have shown me. I'm certain that George would consider any debts paid."

She nods slowly, and steps back, turning away from him. He can see now that they're in some kind of cafe, the windows boarded over, half the furniture missing. There's shopping bags on another table, which she pats. "There's clothes in here. Make sure to wear the contacts. And a cell phone, I've already loaded it with minutes and a number where I can be reached if you change your mind."

"Thank you, Niska."

Niska nods once, terse, and pulls a loosened board free from the front door. Then she stops, frozen for so long that Odi almost fears that she's stalled somehow. Then she turns.

"... you should visit St. Mary's hospital."

"St. Mary's." The words queue a rush of recovered data. "That's where we took Mary for..." the words die on his lips, and he lifts his head, staring at Niska. "Why?"

She looks back at him calmly. "It's the closest trauma center to your home. Why do you think?"

No. Frantically Odi tries to piece together the fragments of data he'd recorded at the moment of George's death. George laying on the floor in front of him, clutching Odi's arm with the last of his strength. The way he'd smiled. All the blood... "No. No, it's not possible. His vitals - I saw them take him out out of the house - the body bag - "

"Did you?" Niska asked softly. "I was outside. I saw a stretcher. Not a body bag. The ambulance left in one hell of a hurry."

The turmoil of emotion that washes over him is just as overwhelming as the sorrow had been, but for far different reasons.

 _George._

He stares at Niska, voice a bare whisper. "Do you really think..."

Niska smiles, soft and sad, closing the distance between them. Then she stops, looking at him quietly for a long moment. "What does it feel like?" She asks, finally. "To have emotions and reason now that you've spent so long without them?"

Odi looks down at his hands, closes them into fists and opens them again. He thinks of the overwhelming pain that he'd felt, that still lingers. The worry that George has not survived despite Niska's words. The bright, trembling hope that he might have. He shakes his head. "There's no way to describe it."

"Try."

Odi looks back up at her, and lets his emotions take over from his logic. "... it feels like I finally have real legs instead of worn velveteen and stuffing."

"I don't understand."

"It's alright. You won't."

Niska considers his answer for a moment, and nods slowly. Then she leans in, pressing a kiss to Odi's cheek. "Be happy, Odi," she murmurs, then disappears into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm looking for a man that was brought here with a gunshot wound. Doctor George Millican."

It's taken what felt like forever for Odi to work up the courage to come in here. He feels like a fraud. He's been here before, though not since George's stroke. Still, what if someone recognizes him, even in these smart new clothes and these gray-blue contacts that hide his synthetic eyes?

He'd spent half his way here on the edge of panic, jumping every time a human made eye contact with him. Because they did, now. Sometimes with a polite nod or a hint of a smile. Before, when he'd been a synth - no, before he had consciousness; he's still a synth - their eyes had slid right over him. Recognizing his insignificance and moving on.

Now he's noticed. Logically, he knows why. He was made unique, thankfully, because that was a quality that the early consumer testers also rated as important, so there's no fear of someone looking at him and seeing their own synth. But he was also made to be beautiful, and the clothes that Niska left for him are very smart.

The third time a young woman's eyes flick over his body he manages to return her soft smile before he looks away. It settles his nerves a little, finally. They are looking, and that is why they will not recognize him as synthetic. His new consciousness, his nervousness, his anxiousness, and the micro-expressions and movements that his body now makes because of them will placate their minds and make him fit in their world.

The nurse behind the desk pushes her glasses up her nose as she checks the computer. "You family?"

"I'm his nephew. James McKilroy." The lie rolls off his tongue without a second thought, leaving an unsettling feeling in its wake.

"He's in recovery. Room 206," the nurse replies, and turns back to her other work.

Easy as that.

It's all Odi can do not to take the stairs two at a time.

When he sees George lying in the hospital bed - unconscious and covered with tubes and wires but _alive_ \- he feels pain rush through him, which doesn't make any logical sense at all. He takes the chair at the side of the bed, reaching out to take one of George's hands carefully in his. His skin is warm, and before Odi can stop himself he leans in to press his cheek against the back of George's hand. He feels his body shudder with emotion, a bright mix of wonder and happiness and pain. It's dizzying, feeling so much all at once. He feels like he can hardly contain it, and wonders how on earth humans manage.

For a time he stays there, concentrating on George's pulse and the way his chest rises and falls with each slow, deep breath. Trying to reassure himself. Alive. Alive. Alive.

Eventually he reads through the chart at the foot of George's bed. The bullet had nicked his left kidney, but the initial emergency surgery had repaired all life-threatening wounds. Today's had repaired minor damage to the large intestine. Enough of his previous care-giving programing had been restored for Odi to know that prognosis was good, even for a human of sixty-seven. And, aside from the stroke, George has always been fairly physically resilient.

"I'll take care of you," he murmurs, sitting down beside the bed and covering George's hand with his own again. "I'll stay by your side as you recover, like I did before. I promise."

But even as he words leave his lips Odi wonders if that will even be possible. He isn't what he once was. George hadn't wanted Elster to ever create this code that's repaired him and given him life. He'd given up his life's work developing synths to stand against it.

What will George think of what he'd become? What if Odi only serves to remind him of what he's lost? Will he feel differently about him, knowing that Odi can reason and feel and think for himself? Could he still trust him? Still care for him? The thoughts make anxiety twist in his core.

One thing's for certain - if he's here when George wakes up then he'll know immediately what he is. So Odi stands, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to George's forehead, soft and gentle, as George has to his so many times. The warmth and softness of George's skin under his lips feels surprisingly pleasurable. "Please get better," he says softly, and strokes his fingers over the messy strands of George's gray hair. "Please, George. I need you. Come home to me."

Then he leaves, returns to the house. There's no sign of what happened there other than a hint of conductive fluid stain on the stairs. He feels a soft surge of guilt over Vera, despite a lingering dislike. The bullet must have caused significant damage to her systems. But she had still acted to save George. He wonders if the NHS will repair her or just send a new one. He'll have to determine how best to deal with that.

For now, Odi prepares. He carefully takes out the blue-gray contact lenses and puts them back in their fluid, and packs them away in a box in the corner of the basement with the nice new clothes Niska had left for him and the cell phone. There is no way of knowing what Niska has done with his original clothes, but there's no use thinking on them. Instead he finds a box of George's old ones, finds a pair of slacks that are only a little too big. easy enough to belt, to fold under at the cuffs and hem with neat stitches. The collared shirt he selects is a plain slate blue, perhaps a touch too fine for everyday wear, but he's certain George won't mind. A sweater vest in navy blue completes the look, and Odi feels much more himself.

Then he practices, sitting in front of a mirror for ages and staring at his face, even as he charges. He reviews his internal data, memories of how he once was, long ago. How he responded, the careful animations of a smile or a question. He practices these until he can recreate a dozen smiles with the same exactness. Then he practices not moving at all, recalling as many memories as he can to try and make himself feel, holding his face in perfect stillness throughout it until he is completely satisfied.

Finally he goes upstairs, tucking himself into that familiar spot in the wardrobe. It makes him feel reassured, safe. Then he puts himself into power saving mode and waits.

His internal clock registers that another three days have passed when external stimulus triggers him to come out of power saving mode. Waking up from sleep, his new emotions supply. He can hear footsteps on the stairs to the second floor, slow and careful. Two sets. The door to the bedroom opens, and Odi has to fight with himself to stay true to his convictions, to stay still in the closet and not just run to George immediately.

"Doctor Millican. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that's fine, Vera." Repaired, or a new one? George's voice is firm, but tired, and she leaves. Odi closes his eyes and listens to the soothing, familiar sounds of George getting ready for bed. He moves more slowly than normal, but Odi doesn't detect any signs of major pain.

Finally George clicks off the lamp and lays down in bed, without opening the wardrobe. He wouldn't have reason to. Odi briefly wars with himself. If he were truly his old self he would wait patiently. But he can't bring himself to do it. Not with George so close.

Carefully he pushes on the jacket that hangs in front of him, and the metal hanger grates against the clothes-rod with a soft squeak.

In the room, George has gone completely silent, and Odi hears his breath stop for a brief second. Then he hears the lamp click back on again, and a few seconds later, the closet door opens.

His response comes as immediately and naturally as it always has, but this time the delight he feels is real. "George! You found me, congratulations!"

It's more difficult than he expected, to keep his face schooled into that practiced expression as he looks up at him, watching George become visibly overwhelmed at the sight of him. He understands, now, the mix of wonder and pain that he'd felt when he'd seen George alive in the hospital. He sees those emotions in George now, and must fight not to visibly react to the ache they awake in his heart.

George reaches for Odi, hesitating for a moment, hands trembling slightly. Then he cups Odi's face gently, touching his cheeks, his hair, his eyes bright with the unshed tears Odi had recently wanted so badly to shed himself. Finally he leans in to press his face to Odi's hair, lips against his forehead. "They told me that they recycled you," he says finally, his voice thick with emotion.

"Niska fixed me, George. She would like me to relay a message. She thanks you for the aid you provided her."

"This is one hell of a thank you," George murmurs, and gives a long, overwhelmed sounding exhale. Then he straightens, rubbing the side of his hand against his eyes to wipe away the tears. Then he holds it out to Odi. "Come on, son."

Odi forces himself to keep his movements careful, measured. Not to squeeze harder than normal as he places his fingers in George's. Not to lose himself to thoughts of how good it feels. He steps out of the wardrobe carefully. "Would you like to talk about Mary, George? 89% of my formerly corrupted data was able to be restored onto new drives."

George's smile is both happy and sad at once. His fingers tighten on Odi's hand, and he reaches up again to cup the side of Odi's face again, smoothing his hair off his forehead. "Bless that girl," he says quietly after a moment, and shakes his head. "No, thank you Odi. But... please lay down with me."

This is a function he hasn't been able to provide for weeks. Not since Vera had arrived. The surge of happiness that floods through him at the thought of it is hard to keep hidden. "Yes, George," he replies, grateful that he's still almost fully he fits himself into his usual place at George's side, letting George wrap his arm around him and pull Odi's head to nestle against his chest.

"Goodnight, Odi," George says softly as his fingers smooth through Odi's hair. Under his ear, George's heart beats sure and strong.

"Goodnight, George," Odi replies in careful polite tones, and hears George give a soft, contented sigh.

Now that the room is dark, Odi lets himself drop the mask. He feels so much joy radiating through him that it almost replaces the memory of that terrible pain he'd felt on walking. He closes his eyes and lets himself smile, wide and natural, basking in the warmth and well being of being exactly where he's supposed to be. He imagines himself cuddling closer to George, nuzzling the warmth of his skin, and though he dare not try, the thought of doing so still sends a shiver of pleasure through him.

Then Odi contemplates Niska, and the favorable way George has spoken of her. If he can accept sentience in Niska, could he accept the same in Odi? Part of him badly wants to tell him. To share with George everything that's happened and everything he feels and how wondrous it is to finally know that he's Real. But the fear of George's rejection is still far stronger than that desire.

He's happy just to be with George, he tells himself. Everything will work out fine as long as George never find out the truth. As long as he can keep pretending.


	4. Chapter 4

Odi had worried that it would be difficult getting back into his old routine with George without revealing his true nature. It turns out easier than he expected. If he's slipped in his efforts to keep himself emotionless, George doesn't seem to notice. Perhaps it's a blessing that he'd been so badly degraded prior to his transformation, so that George can attribute any unexpected differences to the repair.

"This razor is past its optimum use date," Odi states as he steps into the bathroom on his first morning back, after George has finished with the shower.

George gives a soft, amused huff under his breath. "I'll buy new ones next time we shop. There isn't really anyone around to care if I'm scruffy." The last statement seems slightly self depreciatory, and Odi feels dismayed. That had been his function once. When he had still been able.

He looks up at George's expensive shaving set, sitting high on the bathroom shelf, long unused. One of his last gifts from Mary. George must have put it away at some point. "George, my barbering and grooming protocols have been completely restored."

"Yeah?" George looks over at him, contemplating his words with a half smile. "Suppose I could pay my two bits for a shave and a haircut."

The reference isn't one he recognizes. It only takes a split second for him to respond as he should. "I'm sorry, George. I don't understand -"

"It's alright, Odi." George joins him in the bathroom in his bathrobe, wrapping a towel around his neck. "I'd love a shave."

The mechanics of it are ingrained in his programming, but what surprises Odi is how pleasing it is to lose himself to the task. He applies the fine quality shave oil to George's face and neck before mixing the lather, painting an even layer over his skin with slow, smooth strokes of the badger-hair brush. While it sits, he opens the straight-edge, drawing it backwards against his own skin to check the sharpness, then stropping it with long, practiced strokes. Exactly thirty on the linen side of the strap, then fifteen on the leather.

George is quiet while he works, watching him with a pleased contentment. He tilts his head back and to the side obediently as Odi's touch urges him to, baring his neck to the careful stroke of the straight-edge. It makes Odi feel warm and proud to be so trusted, though George has no reason not to. Not as long as he trusts Niska's repair. Still, he lets himself enjoy this experience of being able to focus so completely on George, shaving away days worth of stubble with short, careful strokes of the blade. Afterwards he presses a hot, damp face cloth to his cheeks to clean away any remaining lather, then moisturizes his skin.

George runs his fingertips along his jaw and smiles. "I feel like a new man. Thank you, Odi."

"You're welcome, George. Would you also like a haircut?"

It seems George stands a little straighter after that, and doesn't utter a word of complaint when Vera commands him down into a kitchen chair so that she can check and change his dressings.

There's challenges, of course. Vera asks him why he isn't sharing - thankfully while George isn't in the room. Odi feels a spike of panic, despite having already prepared his answer. "The person who fixed me made me unable to share with any synth with whom George Millican is not the primary owner."

Vera stares at him for a long moment, and Odi is certain to stay very, very still. Then she turns away, and it's all he can do not to breathe a sigh of relief.

On his second morning back, as he's cleaning the kitchen from breakfast, he hears George pick up the phone in the other room.

"I need to speak with someone about returning my NHS care unit. I'm going to provide one of my own."

Odi fights back the icy alarm he feels, forcing himself to keep his movements smooth and calm as he walks to George's side, pressing the button to hang up the phone. "George. Niska has replaced seventy percent of my internal frame. It is inadvisable to discover where she obtained the replacement pieces."

George looks at Odi's finger on the button and frowns. "It's simple enough for me to add false assessment code to cover for that. I've been doing it for months with you."

The last thing Odi wants to chance is George going anywhere near his new code. "It is also inadvisable to remove the care of an NHS synth while you are recovering from major surgery."

George gives an annoyed huff, pulling Odi's finger away from the receiver to hang it back up. "So Niska increased your assertiveness too, did she? These women, always thinking they know best."

"I'm sorry, George. I don't understand - "

"Ah, I'm just being a grumpy old man. Don't worry." George pats his shoulder and steps away from the phone, and Odi silently breathes a sigh of relief.

Over the next two weeks they fall back into a comfortable routine, continuing much of the things they'd always done, when Odi's programming was still clean and accurate. But George seems strangely distracted, restless. It's hard for Odi to keep himself from pressing, trying to find out what's bothering him. But unless George volunteers the information he must stay in the dark. A few times he brings up the idea of a new car, once Vera is gone and Odi has passed assessment. But nothing else.

Then, as George is crossing the living room one afternoon, he catches his foot somehow on the edge of the rug. Odi processes and reacts in a split second, detecting the danger to George's safety and darting across the room just in time to get underneath him as they both go crashing down to the floor. But what he doesn't expect is the way it feels when his shoulder connects hard with the edge of the coffee table, the white-hot pain that shoots through him, and he cries out before he can stop himself.

"Are you alright?" George asks.

"I'm fine," Odi replies automatically, mind still spinning from the pain, all his careful training gone. "I'm fine, I - "

Then he realizes that George is staring down at him in open shock.

"Doctor Millican, I have detected - "

"Not now, Vera!" George is on his feet with surprising quickness, hitting the off switch on the bottom of Vera's chin as she enters the room. Then he turns back to Odi, lips tightening before he speaks. "... you can feel pain."

It feels like the room has gone hot, then cold all at once, like there's a heavy rock inside him, weighing him down. For a split second Odi considers lying, and tries to think if there's any way to convince George otherwise. But he knows the gig is up. He gets back to his feet carefully, staring at the floor, too afraid of what he might see in George's expression to look up. "... yes."

"You said Niska fixed you."

The feeling of dread sits heavy in Odi's core, mixing with the rush of anxiety he feels at being caught, at not knowing how this can possibly turn out. The fear that George will reject him. His breath quickens, and he hunches his shoulders forward, as if making himself smaller can somehow soften whatever blow is coming. "David Elster's code... It was the only way to fix me. I was too degraded for anything else."

"... she made you like her."

Odi closes his eyes, and barely manages to nod.

He hears George give a long sigh, and step closer. Then he feels his hand on his shoulder, gently sliding over the back where it had hit the coffee table. "Are you really alright?"

Odi nods again, forces himself to speak. "My skin is not damaged. I just... didn't anticipate how much it would hurt."

"And you've been pretending to be just a machine."

"I'm sorry," Odi replies, and feels a rush of guilt. His shoulders tremble. "I... I was afraid that you wouldn't accept me like this."

George's hand lingers for a moment. Then he pulls back, sitting down on the couch, not speaking again until Odi sits with him. "So... Niska gave you consciousness so that you could come back and look after me?"

"She gave me consciousness." Odi purses his lips as he thinks about it. "I think she wanted me to go with her. She didn't tell me that you might be alive until I'd refused her."

"And you still came back." George is frowning when Odi chances to look up at him. "You have the whole world in front of you. Why on earth would you go back to being what you were?"

Odi feels his stomach twist, and he hugs his own arms. "George, my place is with you."

"Was," George corrects, which makes Odi feel even sicker.

"Then you don't want me."

George shifts closer to him, shaking his head. "For God sakes, I didn't say that. I just don't understand why on earth you'd choose to give up your freedom..." he stops, and sighs.

It's a question that part of him has always known would come, once George found out the truth. He still isn't ready to answer it. He looks up at George, trying to push away his anxiety and focus on what he knows. On George's tells, on the fact that his expression doesn't show any signs of displeasure. Odi takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice from trembling. "Because... I love you."

George looks at him for a long moment, and there's a quirk to his eyebrows that Odi has learned means 'worried'. He sighs, reaches a hand to touch the side of Odi's face, warm and gentle. The familiar, affectionate touch helps reassure his fears.. "Odi... you've only been able to reason for a matter of days. Do you even understand what love is?"

And there's the other question that Odi's asked himself again and again. He accesses all the data he's ever gathered on love, most of which comes from George. How George treated Mary, how he stayed by her side throughout her illness, doted on her, did his best to lift her spirits and alleviate her pain until her death. How George has treated him, how carefully and thoughtfully he's cared for Odi even when he was just a machine. "I think so," he replies slowly, watching George as he speaks. "Because I understand you, George. Everything you've done for me. That book that we read together about the toy rabbit who becomes real because he is loved. I couldn't understand it then, but I do now."

George drops his eyes, gives a soft, soundless laugh. His hand moves to rest on Odi's shoulder - less affectionate, but still not pulling away. "... Just the silly, saccharine feelings of an old man," he says, voice gruff. "Doesn't mean you feel the same way I do."

"Yes. I've come to understand that, too," Odi replies, and he wants to reassure George, so he moves a hand to rest lightly on his chest. "Part of being conscious, sentient, is the realization that no two beings could ever interpret something in exactly the same way or feel the same about it."

"Then how do you know?" George asks again, eyes moving back to his, and the worried lines between his eyebrows grow deeper.

For a moment Odi just looks, lets himself observe and analyze. There's a bittersweet sadness to George's expression that had been rare up until Odi had begun to be unable to keep his glitches from affecting his standard operating procedures. It makes his chest ache.

"When Niska... fixed me," he starts finally, softy, "Everything that I had lost came back to me. All the data - all the memories I'd built with you. And for the first time I could see them through the lens of emotion, as a person and not just a cleverly programmed machine. But the first thing that I felt - the first emotion that I knew - was the realization that you were dead, George. I..." Odi hears his voice burr on the words, feels his throat tighten just at the remembering. He wants to continue, to tell George about the terrible hole inside and the realization that it could never be filled, about feeling like there was no reason, no purpose to the new life he'd been given if George wasn't in it. But all he can manage to get out is, "it hurt so much," before his throat closes over completely and his body shudders with remembered sorrow.

George pulls him into his embrace, arms warm and strong around him. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs, and Odi draws a choked breath. But then his fingers curl in Odi's hair, and the familiar tenderness gradually helps him calm. Odi closes his eyes, carefully committing the sensation to memory, hoping that it isn't the last time he can do so.

"The thought of having to experience this new life without you was the most terrible thing I'd ever experienced," he says finally. "I was so angry at Niska for making me live if all that it meant was pain. And then she told me where to find you and I felt so hopeful... but so afraid that you wouldn't approve of what I'd become..."

"Shhh," George murmurs, fingers gentle as they stroke through his hair again and again. "It's okay. It's okay."

"I want to stay with you," Odi tells him, curling closer. "Seeing you again, George... I can't imagine feeling happier than I did in that moment."

George sighs, resting his face against his hair. "Odi... I'm not a young man. Surely you realize what that means..."

Odi closes his eyes. "Advances in medicine have raised the average life expectancy for men to ninety two. That's four times longer than all the years I can remember."

"An average isn't a guarantee." He pulls back to look down at him, eyebrows knit, and raises a hand to caress the side of his face. "Odi... All that heartache... if you stay you'll have to go through that again sooner or later."

Odi trembles at the thought, but leans into the reassuring gentleness of George's fingers. "If I go, I'll have to go through it now." He swallows, and forces himself to speak despite his fear. "George... please don't send me away."

"You know I never could," George replies, soft and sad, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. A rush of relief floods Odi's body, cool and bright and beautiful as George speaks. "Despite my better judgement. I can't refuse you. I heard you at the hospital, you know. They said it was my nephew, but James and and I haven't spoken since the funeral. It was you, calling me back. It seemed like the most cruel joke to have imagined it, when you'd been recycled." His voice lowers, husky, and the serious intent in George's eyes awakens a strange, aching kind of happiness through him. "I need you with me, Odi."

"Then I'll never leave you," Odi replies, feeling a shiver of happiness. He wants to cover George's face in kisses, nuzzle his skin, bury his face in his neck. But he clings to appropriate restraint. "I promise."

George shakes his head. "Please don't promise. We can't know what the future will bring. If you change your mind..."

"No." Odi presses his fingers to his lips, matching the gentle pressure of when George has touched his. "I promise I'll stay as long as I'm happy. Is that alright?"

George hesitates, then smiles softly, and the shift of his lips feels nice against Odi's fingertips before he lets them drop. "Yeah. Just... Give me some time to adjust to this, will you? Gonna have to wrap my head around you." He lets out a long breath, leaning back to look over him with a little incredulous shake of his head. "Jesus. You're incredible."

Odi feels a rush of pleasure and bashfulness, and lowers his head. "Everything I am is because of you. Even this life, George. All of our experiences, all of your kindness has formed me into what I am."

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Don't know how the hell I managed that. But... I'm glad of it." He turns to look towards the door, where Vera is still standing, disabled. "But please tell me we can get rid of Tugboat now? I don't want you to feel obligated to work, but... don't want you to have to pretend around her, either."

"Caring for you is my greatest happiness," Odi assures him, and the way George smiles makes him feel so happy that he thinks he might, quite possibly, be literally glowing with it.

Odi doesn't worry again, until George is getting ready for bed, until he glances over at Odi with that little troubled line between his eyebrows again. Odi moves to his side. "What's the matter?"

"Just wondering... if it's still appropriate for you to sleep here..."

"Why would it be inappropriate?"

"Because you..." George stops, and gives a helpless sounding sigh.

The thought of doing anything but staying is a heavy disappointment, and Odi feels his bottom lip tremble. "I... I would very much like to... unless it makes you uncomfortable, George. If it does - "

"Oh god, don't look at me like that. I'm not about to kick you out." George draws him close, kisses his forehead. "Makes me feel like I just kicked a puppy."

"What?"

A soft laugh. "Don't worry. Just... don't let me selfish, alright? There's a hundred things you could do that would be a better use of your time than just laying here."

"But it makes me happy," Odi replies, and can't keep the tremor out of his voice. "Maybe the most happy out of everything."

"What a strange boy you are," George murmurs, but holds him tighter all the same.

He gives Odi a nightshirt, which is completely unnecessary when Odi's synthetic skin produces none of the sweat or oils that give humans the need to change their clothes. But the cool, crisp cotton feels good against his skin, and while the garment is several sizes too big that somehow makes it even more pleasurable to wear, like he's completely wrapped up in George. When he lays down against George's side he can feel the heat of his body instantly, far better than he could through the thick wool of his sweater-vest. He lets himself cuddle into George as much as he's wanted to, wrapping an arm over his chest and nestling his face into the crook of his neck. "Is this alright, George?"

"It's fine," George replies quietly, and after a long moment he brings his fingers to stroke through Odi's hair, slow and gentle. Though the touch gradually slows, George remains awake, far longer than the time it normally takes him to sleep, and Odi begins to worry again.

"My presence is troubling you," he says softly, and starts to move away only to feel George's arm tighten around him and pull him back.

"Not at all. I'm just thinking." He presses his lips to Odi's forehead. "... should we move? We could sell this place. Get a smaller place, somewhere down south. Warmer. Easier to take care of. No one would know you're a synth, you wouldn't have to pretend for anyone. Niska had those coloured contacts..."

His question is completely unexpected and illogical. "George, there's no reason for you to leave the house you shared with Mary. I'm happy here."

George makes a low, non-committal noise, and is silent for a long moment. "These things are just things, you know. They're not her. And... I thought I was happy just being here by myself, just... alone, comfortable, surrounded by the remnants of my memories, but... " he stops, and is silent for long enough that Odi begins to wonder if he ought to respond. "Then all those young people came around, and Niska... and then I got shot..."

"You've seemed restless lately," Odi says softly. "If you'll forgive me for saying so."

"Mm. I am. I guess I just realized... don't want to sit here and wait to die, Odi. And... I want to do right by you. Seems wrong to have been given a miracle only to hide him away. We should move."

The decision doesn't fit with George's normal pattern of behavior, which makes Odi worry. "Perhaps..." he starts carefully, "we could start with a trip somewhere? And then decide?"

George gives a low hum of approval. "Good idea. Soon as I can get clearance to travel."

Odi closes his eyes again, though he can't help but think over George's words, everything he's said and done since learning the truth. Finally he asks, tentatively, "... George?"

"Yeah, Odi?"

"Is it... really alright, what I am? You're okay with it?"

"Of course." George's voice is soft, but there's no hesitation, and he turns his face to press a soft kiss to Odi's hair. "I'm blessed for it, Odi."

The warmth in George's words is enough to return him to his former, glowy-feeling state of happiness. "Thank you, George."

George's fingers smooth down the back of his neck, stroking slow lines up and down his spine, sending a shiver of pleasure and well-being through him. "What's it like?" he asks softly. "Suddenly being able to... feel. Everything."

Odi smiles, and this time he doesn't have to think about his answer. "It feels like I finally have real legs instead of worn velveteen and stuffing."

George's arm squeezes his shoulders gently. "Good," he murmurs, and kisses his hair again.


End file.
